Untitled
by greengumdrops
Summary: One-shot. HD Slash. An afternoon in Potions.


(Untitled)

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Series belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Notes: A semi-drabble I randomly came up with. I haven't read the books in a while, so please do let me know if I've made any mistakes. Also, I haven't read much Harry Potter fanfiction, so I am by no means an expert in the field, but I do hope that this is enjoyable! Let me know what you think! Draco Malfoy P.O.V.

Warning: This story contains slash.

Bloody Potter refuses to stop groping me. I'm afraid even to move, as his hand is in a very intimate position. And I know he's not afraid to apply more pressure if I may go by the smugness of his features. He looks quite irresistible, actually; his eyes challenging and his lips slightly curled. I should be angry at him for stealing my trademark, but he still hasn't quite got the arrogance down, and it makes him look so damn desirable. This is a dangerous game we play, attempting to successfully follow potion directions while rather distracted. Not to mention the fact that Snape is lurking about. I have a bad feeling because our potion is turning a rather nasty greenish-orange color. I try to scoot out from under the table, such that my groin will be in plain sight, but his grip tightens. I let out a ragged groan, which I attempt to pass off as a sound of utter annoyance. We are sitting in the back of the classroom, and everyone, including the Professor, turn around abruptly. My dear Potter still doesn't let go, and adorns a look of such innocence it makes me sick.

"Malfoy, I trust everything is in order?" Snape gives me a pointed look. As if it was my fault.

"Professor Snape, I fail to see why I must be paired with Wonder Boy here." I spit out, jerking my head in his direction.

"You know very well why. I will not waste my breath by telling you again." Snape turns his back and ignores us. The student body follows his example, much to my relief. I turn sideways to glare hotly at my tormentor, but it doesn't seem to affect him in the least. I led out a growl that is mostly vibration, and to my delight, my lust shivers beside me. I knew that would get him.

I was surprised when I found out that I literally _needed_ Potter. Our first kiss had been not much more than an accident; we had been yelling at each other, as our faces grew closer, eyes full of hate. We soon began to argue in a much different, although no less fierce, manner. I couldn't get enough of my enemy, and I got the same feeling of dependence and urgency from him. I wasn't even aware when my sheer hate turned to love. Very thin line indeed.

As cliché as it sounds, I am his light and he is my dark. He is none other than the Boy Who Lived, the boy who saved us all as a mere baby, and continues to save us now. He is on the 'good' side, at all times doing what is right (when he does something wrong, he always ends up being right anyway), and is loved by most everyone. I, on the other hand, am a Malfoy; crude, conceited, wealthy, and pureblood. I knew somewhere inside me that I didn't want to be a Death Eater, nor did I wish to support the Dark Lord, but I upheld the proud image of my family, perhaps mostly of fear. I am a coward, unlike the golden hero. My Potter needs his light to exist as himself, just as I need my dark.

I should feel nothing other than pure loathing and pity towards my nemesis, but when we realized just what we meant to the other, well, it all went downhill from there. Dumbledore did not much more than excessively twinkle, mumbling about united houses and ultimate defeat. Perhaps it was his manner of telling us he knew all along (we never told him in the first place; his insight scares me), as well as a warning of what was to come. Only together could we defeat the Dark Lord.

Still, no matter my twisted love towards Potter, as a Malfoy I can keep up appearances. I can see it slowly kill him from the inside, that we keep our relationship from even his two best friends. But we both understand the danger. I would be killed myself for betrayal, if not for the window of opportunity I would provide for killing Potter. Potter is the only person for whom I become brave.

There is still a part of me that wishes to rebel and betray his love. But after all, he is my darkness, and it is my darkness that makes me turn to such thoughts.

Stupidly I decide that if I make his arm invisible, he'll leave me alone. Now, however, he is actually reaching _inside_ my robes. I attempt to remind him that we are in Potions, of all classes, but I cannot form words. To my surprise, Granger ends up being my salvation.

"Harry! What on earth did you put into that potion!? Were you even following directions!? If you expect to get a good grade-"

"Yes, Hermione, I know." Potter sounds strangely defeated.

"Here, you need to add a bit of- goodness gracious Harry! Where _is _your arm!? Can the two of you not even get along for one class period!? You know what, don't answer that. I fear that I might be being a bit _hypocritical_."

"Harry-" I begin to sneer, realizing my mistake almost instantly. Granger's eyes grow and Potter looks frightened. I don't even call him 'Harry' in my thoughts; only in moments of tenderness and passion, and rarely even then. 'Potter' has morphed into some sort of pet name. Although the class had been amicably chatting, there was a lull in conversation as soon as the word left my mouth, and a good half of the class now looked at me uncertainly. If they weren't openly gaping.

"Potter." I snarl. But my mind reels.

_Harry, Harry, Harry..._


End file.
